


Sealed fate

by Oneday_Always



Category: Under The Dome (TV)
Genre: Episode companion for 1x06 -1x08, F/M, all Jarbie scenes, fluff plus a lil sex basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneday_Always/pseuds/Oneday_Always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them ever intended to fall in love. But then again, maybe that's exactly what they were always meant to do.</p>
<p>Follows show from Jarbie's perspective from 1x06 onwards. WIP.</p>
<p>(Moving all my old works over from ffnet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The house was empty.

She knew it instantly, the silent stillness pressing in on her from the moment she stepped through the door, a deafening quiet that sent a fresh chill through her shivering, rain-soaked body.

Pausing in the dim entryway, Julia bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. All she'd wanted was to get out of the rain— to get home, change, and wrap herself in a thick, soft blanket before curling up on the couch with the heater blazing and a hot coffee in her hands.

Now that she was here, though, she realized that she'd never imagined doing so alone.

"Barbie?" she called, the word echoing softly in the silence, giving her an answer she already knew.

He wasn't here.

Drawing in a brief, steadying breath, she tightened her grip on her keys, and then— without pausing to think or question her decision— she simply turned and stepped back out into the storm.

###

She found him on Lake Street, his already-familiar build instantly recognizable even through the pouring rain. She didn't expect the immediate sense of gladness and relief that coursed through her at the sight of him, her hand reflexively pressing down on the horn to catch his attention. As he slowed, half-turning toward her, she felt a sudden sense of impatience seize her, her body reacting before conscious thought could intercede.

Shifting into park, she yanked the handbrake and then climbed quickly from the car, scarcely noticing nor caring as the rain once again engulfed her, her attention focused on nothing but the figure ahead of her as she called his name.

Illuminated as he was in the headlights, she saw the immediate shift in his posture at her voice, the tense, ready stance instantly relaxing, his response causing an unexpected surge of warmth somewhere deep in her chest.

"I've been looking for you," she blurted honestly, suddenly realizing that she wanted him to know it, even if she didn't fully understand why. Moving swiftly across the puddle-strewn asphalt, she reached him in just a few quick steps, her eyes focused and assessing as she gave him a rapid once-over through the dim light.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he responded after a moment, a distracted, pensive quality to his tone that lit a tiny flicker of concern inside her, a feeling that was momentarily forgotten as his blue eyes lifted to lock with hers, swiftly searching her gaze as he returned the question. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she began quietly, then paused, pushing her damp hair back from her face as she released an unsteady breath. "It's— it's been a hell of a crazy day."

"I guess you could say everyone went a little crazy today," he agreed in a low voice, making her wonder just what had happened during the riot to cause the heaviness behind his words, her concern returning as she looked up into his somber face.

She wanted to comfort him. She wanted him to comfort her.

She wanted a lot of things she shouldn't want, but finally, she wasn't sure she cared.

For a fraction of a second she hesitated, tiny tendrils of indecision and uncertainty still curling in her gut— and then she simply gave in, letting out a slow breath and allowing all of her reservations to go with it. Stepping in close, she rested her head slowly against his shoulder, one arm slipping shyly around his waist, her fingers closing lightly around the back of his shirt. To her relief, he responded without hesitation, his arm circling her shoulders protectively, his touch warm and gentle as he cradled the back of her head, making her melt just a little more into his secure embrace.

For a few moments they simply held each other, slowly settling into this new connection, until her quiet words broke the silence between them.

"We're gonna be okay," she murmured, the tiniest hint of wonder in her tone as she realized that here— with her cheek pressed against his shoulder and his strong arms around her— she was actually beginning to believe it.

His only answer was to hold her just a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against hers in a steady, comforting rhythm. She couldn't believe how good it felt— how right it felt— to be in his arms, pressed close enough to feel his unsteady heartbeat falling into time with her own.

Maybe it was simply because she couldn't even remember what it was like to be held like this— she and Peter had barely touched in months, somehow having fallen into a lifestyle that was more like cohabiting friends than husband and wife. Not that it was Peter's fault, or hers, really; it had been happening slowly for so long that it was hardly a surprise that neither of them had even realized how much they had changed. Now that she actually looked, though, the proof was everywhere— even in the many photos of them scattered around the house, all from the earliest stages of their relationship, the happy, carefree images simply perpetuating a false truth that she'd willingly allowed herself to believe.

One that, just this morning, she had finally been forced to face.

She and Peter had ended a long time ago; they just hadn't noticed. She loved him still, of course, and likely always would in a way— but the truth was that she hadn't been in love with him for far longer than she'd ever realized.

It had taken her most of the day to recognize the inexplicable feeling that had accompanied the shock and hurt of his letter. It was only once she'd dropped Dodee back at the station and started heading home to meet Barbie that she'd realized what it was, a sudden lightness, an absence of the guilt that had previously lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind whenever Barbie had entered her thoughts.

She'd been relieved.

Her instant, yet carefully-ignored and unacknowledged attraction to Barbie had always seemed like a betrayal of Peter— regardless of how distant their marriage had become— and she had fought to keep it suppressed since the moment she had met him, standing there just yards from the dome that had imprisoned them all.

Now, though— in one sense at least— she was free.

Letting the liberating feeling flood through her, she grasped at a moment of courage, her eyes closing briefly as she slowly lifted her head, the gentle brush of his cheekbone against her temple sending tiny shivers across her skin. Her free hand reached out to curl tentatively around his, her head turning just slightly so that their lips were barely an inch apart.

For one hard beat of her heart, they seemed frozen in place, teetering on the edge; and then they were moving, coming together with an instinctive synchronicity as they closed the gap between them. His lips were warm and soft against hers, his hand closing around hers as he kissed her with a gentleness she had never expected. She felt his other hand pull away from where he had been cradling the back of her head, and immediately missed the contact— only to have it return a moment later, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as his fingers buried themselves in her damp locks, the warmth of his palm like fire against her skin as he deepened the kiss.

More than once since they'd met by the dome— in fact, far more often than she'd like to admit— she'd imagined what it would be like to kiss him, to give into the undeniable heat that sizzled between them, her mind usually conjuring visions of something hot and fast and hungry, with roaming hands and fierce, breathless need.

But this— all tenderness and quiet, earnest wanting, with gentle hands and sweet little caresses— this was beyond anything she'd ever imagined could exist between them, beyond any other kiss she could remember.

Overwhelmed by both the kiss and the strange sense of finality that accompanied it— as if there was going to be no turning back from the path she'd just set them on— she pulled back just slightly, resting her forehead against his as she drew in a slow, wavering breath. Seeming to be having a similar reaction, Barbie simply breathed with her, his thumb stroking gently back and forth across her cheek, a small trail of warmth wiping out the wet tracks left by the steadily falling rain.

After another silent moment, she slowly lifted her head, her eyes opening to lock with his. There was an emotion and intensity to his gaze that made her catch her breath, her skin suddenly burning hot despite the cool rain. Swallowing slightly, she gave his hand a small squeeze, her head tilting just a fraction to the side.

It shouldn't have surprised her that he understood her wordless question immediately, his head inclining in a tiny nod, his fingers tightening around hers as the two of them turned together toward the car, only releasing their grip once they reached the hood and were forced to part.

She'd left the car running, the roar of the storm muted to a dull rumble outside their small bubble of warmth. Neither bothered with seatbelts as she shifted into gear, easing forward slowly through the heavy downpour.

"Where are your things?" she asked after a moment, her words a low murmur, her eyes focused carefully ahead.

She could feel his eyes on her, his intent gaze seeming to pierce straight through her skin. "Still down in the factory."

Nodding slightly— she'd come to that conclusion herself— she wordlessly maneuvered them through the deserted, rubbish-strewn streets, her damp hands slick against the wheel, her mind a tangle of thoughts.

They'd driven for a minute in silence before the thought suddenly occurred to her that someone might be expecting him, that whoever he'd stayed with the night before might be concerned if he didn't return again tonight. Caught up in the thought, she reflexively asked the question that she'd spent much of the previous night wondering about, the words out before she could stop them.

"Where did you stay?"

"My car," he answered simply, and she darted a sharp glance at him, dismay and regret twisting in her gut. When she'd kicked him out the day before, she'd been furious— to be honest, more so with Peter than Barbie himself— but she'd done it assuming that he would find Joe or some other well-meaning resident to offer him a bed and something to eat, not that he would be left to sleep out in the cold, cramped up in an unheated car with no food or bedding.

Looking away quickly, Julia swallowed hard, her throat suddenly just a little tight. He'd noticed, however— his keen eyes yet again seeing more than she'd wanted him to— and reached out to her, his fingers light on her arm.

"Hey, it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."

She nodded, but said nothing, her hand releasing the wheel to clasp his. She could feel his eyes still on her as he gently squeezed her hand, his thumb slowly trailing back and forth across her knuckles as she drove.

When they slowed to a halt out front of the cement factory a few minutes later, she found herself hesitating, her fingers unconsciously tightening around his as she looked towards the entrance. She had no valid reason to go inside, no way to justify joining him that wouldn't sound like the weak excuse to stay close to him that it was. Feeling ridiculous, she mentally shook herself, firmly telling herself that letting him out of her sight for two minutes was not going to erase this new connection between them, that he wasn't going to suddenly disappear just because she let go of his hand.

As if he could hear her thoughts— or perhaps he just knew her better than she realised— Barbie gave her hand a small squeeze, his voice quietly reassuring as his eyes found hers. "I'll be right back."

Giving him a brief nod that somehow managed to project a far greater sense of calm and confidence than she felt, she slipped her fingers from his grasp. "I'll be here."

She was almost certain she hadn't imagined the slight twitch of his fingers against hers as she pulled away, as if he'd had to fight the reflex to tighten his grip. She definitely didn't imagine the minute pause between him releasing her hand and opening the door, his movements fractionally delayed as if his body was rebelling against his mind. Drawing in a slow breath, she watched him climb from the car, the door closing almost completely behind him before suddenly he was opening it again, tiny droplets of water tracking down his skin as he leaned down to poke his head through the doorway.

"Did you want me to grab your wine while I'm down there?" he asked, just a hint of mischief playing on his eyes, and his words had their intended effect, a grin breaking across her face as some of the tension in her suddenly eased.

"Don't bother," she tossed back, "I'd rather not put my tastebuds through that again."

She saw Barbie's fleeting grin, her heart suddenly stumbling a little in her chest.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought," he replied, and then he was gone again, her fleeting sense of relaxed easiness disappearing as swiftly as it had come. Watching him jog through the rain and vanish into the depths of the factory, Julia flexed her hands on the wheel, blowing out a long, slow breath.

Suddenly feeling the need to move, to let out the restless energy that hummed through her body, she abruptly shifted the prius into park and climbed out into the rain for the second time that evening. Pacing the length of the car, she rubbed her arms, the rain seemingly doing nothing to cool the skin that still burned with the memory of Barbie's touch.

Remembering exactly how it had felt to kiss him, to be kissed by him, she felt her skin burn still hotter, her lips and fingertips tingling.

She couldn't understand how she could be so affected by him, how each touch they shared could feel so completely different from anything she'd ever experienced before. A tiny whisper at the back of her mind suggested an answer, but she determinedly blocked it out, refusing to even acknowledge the possibility. There was, however, one thing she did know; kissing him had opened a door inside her that she'd previously kept carefully locked and barred, and now she'd not only strode straight through but she'd slammed it hard behind her, each new touch they shared only sealing it more firmly shut.

Whatever they'd started, she knew there was no going back now.

A tiny, breathy laugh escaped her lips, the sound containing just a trace of panic, and she lifted her hands to her head, fingers sliding into her damp locks as the heels of her hands pressed hard against her temples, as if she could force the jumble of thoughts and feelings into order if only she held tightly enough.

How could something she wanted so much also terrify her so completely?

Releasing an unsteady breath, she forced herself to drop her hands, settling instead for folding her arms across her chest as she turned to lean against the trunk of the car, unwilling to let Barbie witness her having a minor breakdown.

Especially not one that centered around him.

When he emerged from the factory just moments later, she wasn't sure if she heard or simply felt his approach, her head instinctively turning toward him. She saw the flicker in his eyes at the sight of her waiting in the rain, a shifting mixture of surprise, concern, tenderness and heat that quickly settled into something steady and mild as he crossed the short distance to the car, his pack slung over one shoulder.

Straightening, she popped the trunk and stepped aside, her eyes roving over him almost hungrily, as if it had been hours and not scarcely two minutes since he'd disappeared inside.

Once he'd hefted the pack into the trunk, she pushed the lid closed, their eyes meeting through the falling rain. His gaze was even, unwavering, revealing no hint as to whether he was affected by the same storm of emotions that raged inside of her, or whether this change between them even meant the same thing to him as it did to her. Forcibly pushing the thought away— she really didn't want to think at all anymore— she silently moved past him, her fingers brushing against his arm in a brief, feather-light touch as she headed back around her side of the car and slipped smoothly into the driver's seat.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she slowly backed up and turned around, maneuvering carefully in the wet. Once they were safely back onto the road and headed for home, Barbie silently reached across to settle his palm lightly at the back of her neck, his thumb finding the knot at the base of her skull and massaging gently. Biting her lip at the flood of heat that rushed through her veins at his touch, Julia fought the urge to close her eyes, her hands tightening around the wheel as she forced herself to focus on the road.

It felt like an eternity later when they finally pulled into the driveway, Barbie's hand slowly drawing from her neck as she killed the engine, her skin suddenly cold without the gentle warmth of his palm. Pulling the trunk latch, she climbed out into the rain, waiting silently while he grabbed his pack and rounded the car to join her, the two of them walking together to the front door.

Unlocking it, she stepped through, then kicked off her soaked shoes as she waited for him to follow. Carefully re-locking the door, she turned to find him placing his recently-removed boots neatly beside her small heels, a small puddle forming where he stood. Smiling a little at the sight— even despite the nervous tension that curled in her stomach, the ever-increasing pounding of her heart— she moved silently to the stairs, knowing he would be right behind her. Bypassing her own bedroom, she headed instead into the room she already thought of as his, skirting the bed to turn on the small lamp on the nightstand.

Then, turning, she watched him place his pack carefully on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers. Rounding the end of the bed, she paused before him for just the briefest moment, trailing her fingers lightly against his arm before she continued past him, leaving him alone in the room without looking back.

While he'd made no move to stop her, she thought she'd heard just the smallest sigh follow her out of the room, causing another tiny smile to curve her lips. When she stepped back through the doorway just moments later with two thick towels in her hands, she found him standing just where she had left him; though now his eyes were downcast, his shoulders bowed, his whole body seeming defeated, drained.

He looked up swiftly as she entered, and for the briefest moment she saw his eyes flash, a complex fusion of quickly suppressed emotions. Swallowing slightly, she silently crossed the room to where he stood, her eyes still fixed on his as she held up a towel in one outstretched hand.

His fingers brushed gently across the back of her hand as he accepted the towel from her, a growing warmth in his eyes that caused a fresh flutter somewhere low in her belly. Drawing in a slow, steadying breath, she stepped just a little closer, pausing only for a split second before lifting her own towel to brush softly against his cheek and jaw, then continued down his neck to the collar of his shirt, her movements slow, tentative, only her tight grip on the towel hiding the tremor in her hands.

She saw the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard, a momentary trace of hesitancy in his movements as he raised his own towel, brushing the cloth gently against her forehead before replacing it a moment later with just the lightest press of his lips. Her eyelids fluttered, her body going still as he touched the towel carefully against her cheeks, her chin, her nose, his lips following in its wake to press gentle kisses to the newly-dried skin.

Forcing her eyes open, she met his steady gaze, then slowly drew her towel along the damp curve of his neck and up into his hair, her nails pressing into his scalp through the cloth as his kisses headed steadily downward, his mouth leaving a trail of warmth along the arch of her throat. After several silent moments, his lips lifted away from her skin, the half-formed protest that rose in her throat silenced by the gentle pressure of his hand at her shoulder. Understanding his intentions, she gave in, lowering her arms from his neck to turn around slowly in his grip, his chest now mere inches from her back, his warmth radiating through the space between them.

Carefully, gently, he placed the towel over her hair, his fingers pressing through the material to massage her scalp in slow, steady movements, causing a tiny, involuntary moan to escape her lips. After several long moments, he gently smoothed the towel down over her damp locks, gathering them to the side as he pressed his mouth to the exposed skin of her neck, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below the hollow of her ear. Her response was unthinking, instinctive; tilting her head, she all but offered herself up to him, the movement half-permission, half-plea. When his lips found her pulse point a moment later, she let out a shuddering breath, knowing he could feel the frenzied beat that raced beneath her skin.

Letting her eyes fall shut, she drew a slow breath, then slowly lifted trembling hands to tug at her jacket, shrugging off the damp garment in one careful motion. As it dropped to the floor beside their feet, she turned slowly to face him, her eyes opening to lock with his, their gazes holding in a silent moment of communication as they hovered on the edge.

And then she simply shifted forward, eliminating the space between them, her arms curling around his neck as she brought her lips to his. His arms came around her instinctively, naturally, as if he'd held her a hundred times before; one wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, while the other cradled her head in a way that was both gentle and firm, protecting her and claiming her at the same time. Giving herself over completely, she deepened the kiss, the taste and feel of him flooding her senses as he kissed her back hard, both of them slightly hurried, almost desperate, as if this was a moment they'd been wanting for years rather than days. Holding back the moan that threatened to spill from her mouth to his— she was on fire already, burning with his kiss, but god, she needed more— she slid her hands down his chest to fumble with the slick plastic of his buttons, a faint flicker of triumph flaring inside her as she managed to get them all free and push the sodden shirt back off his shoulders, the suddenly-exposed skin of his chest warm against her fingertips.

Reluctantly tearing herself from the kiss, she lowered her eyes to his broad, tanned chest, allowing herself to stare the way she had wanted to that very first night, this time embracing rather than quashing the tight curl of wanting in her gut. Feeling his unsteady breathing feathering against her hair, she leaned down just slightly, touching her lips to the small hollow at the base of his throat, his grip tightening briefly on her waist. Lifting her lips from his skin, she grasped her almost-forgotten towel in unsteady fingers, brushing it slowly across the firm expanse of his pecs before deliberately sliding it downward, skimming over his lean abdomen, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. As she reached the top of his jeans, she smoothly popped open the button, feeling him flinch as she slipped her fingers under the waistband and around to his back, dragging her nails lightly against his skin.

A low rumble vibrated in his chest, his words never making it to his lips as they once again covered hers, claiming her mouth in a way that was both passionate and possessive, a paradox of tenderness and fire that left her breathless. Releasing her waist, he slipped one hand between them to swiftly unhook the single button that fastened the front of her shirt, then slid his hand underneath, his palm hot even through her camisole. Reaching down to help him, she yanked at the shirt, impatient for the feel of his hands on her bare skin. Within moments her shirt had joined his on the floor, the camisole promptly following suit, leaving the dark lace of her bra exposed.

This time it was he who broke off the kiss, her small moan of protest going unheard as his eyes immediately fell to her chest, his grip tight and breathing ragged as he stared. Then, lowering his head, he traced his lips from the angle of her jaw to her collarbone, his mouth hot and wet against her shoulder. When she curled her arms once more around his neck, clinging to him, he simply reached down and lifted her against him, taking her full weight easily. Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, Julia buried her fingers in his still-damp hair, her lips pressing against his forehead as he turned around, moving them over to the bed.

Despite the tension in his hard body, the urgency of his mouth on her skin, he handled her carefully, lowering her gently onto the duvet like she was something fragile and precious, a treasure that he couldn't believe he held. Sliding one jean-clad thigh between hers, he held his body steady above her, her back arching instinctively to meet him as his lips ventured lower, mapping her skin with a tenderness and care that left her trembling.

Biting her lip, she held back a moan as one callused palm slid across her stomach and up across her ribs, slipping underneath her back to unclasp her bra with long, deft fingers. Within moments the lacy fabric was gone, his mouth already intent on warming the newly-exposed skin. This time her moan would not be suppressed, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair as she arched against him, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

As if sensing her need, Barbie lifted his head, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss that stole her breath. Digging her nails into his muscled shoulder, she kissed him back hungrily, her other hand running from his chest to his abdomen before reaching for the zipper of his jeans.

At her touch, he tensed, his lips tearing briefly from hers, his breathing shallow.

"Julia," he panted, a question he didn't seem to know how to phrase.

"Yes," she whispered harshly, her lips finding his earlobe, his jaw, his throat. "Yes, I'm sure."

For a moment he was still, his eyes clenched shut, his body taut with carefully restrained need. Then, his eyes opened, blue and intense as they met and held hers. Lifting one hand, he cupped her face— and somehow they both seemed to settle slightly, his gaze softening before his lips lowered once more to hers, kissing her gently, carefully, their previous rushed pace slowly subsiding into something sweeter, more real.

When he pulled away a moment later, she let him go, her eyes watching his every movement as he slowly straightened, his broad, muscled frame looming over her, his hands lingering for a moment at her hips before she gave him the slightest of nods. His eyes never leaving hers, he carefully unbuttoned her jeans, his hands gentle as he slowly slipped the damp fabric down over her thighs and calves, leaving her in only a small pair of dark lace panties.

For a moment she felt exposed, vulnerable, a frisson of fear spreading through her veins— until she saw understanding and tiny hint of apprehension lingering behind his own eyes, felt the tenderness with which he pressed a small kiss to the bare skin of her ankle. Feeling a tiny smile form on her lips, she lifted herself on her elbows, then tilted her head, glancing pointedly to his jeans before flicking her gaze back up to meet his.

His breath escaped in a small huff, a sweet almost-laugh that made her grin. Shooting her a wry look, he obediently unzipped his jeans and carefully stepped out of them, revealing a very tight pair of dark-gray briefs. Shifting slightly, she held out a hand to him, and he came without hesitation, his lips finding hers instantly as his body settled once more above her. For a fleeting moment, she smiled against his lips, then parted them, steadily deepening the kiss as his hand drifted down her side to her waist, fingers curling in the waistband of her panties.

It was then, with his lips covering hers and her body pressed tightly against his, that she felt it; it was then that she finally just knew.

Whatever this was— whatever was between them— it wasn't just a product of circumstances, or convenience, or simple attraction.

It was real.

And as the storm outside continued to rage, the storm that had roiled within her finally fell silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows 1x07.

He shouldn't be here.

This town, this house, this bed— any of it.

Watching her sleep peacefully beside him, Barbie let out a small sigh, then closed his eyes. Of all the places in the world he had any right to be, this was about the last.

Those fucking cows. Five more seconds and he would have been free, past the dome line, putting as many miles between him and this goddamn town as he could, never looking back. Five more seconds and he never would have been stuck here, trapped in a giant supernatural fishbowl with limited supplies and a town full of panicked and desperate civilians.

Five more seconds and he never would have met  _her._

Okay, so maybe the last part he didn't regret quite so much as he should.

He'd told himself that he'd just stuck around to look out for her. After all, he knew— both from his own observations and from what she had told him— that Peter had been her only direct relation in town; at a time like this, when normal society went to hell and everyone was only looking out for their own, she needed someone in her corner. He'd owed it to her, and— though he hated to admit it— to Peter as well, to be there for her, to protect her now that there was no one else who would.

And honestly, for a while at least, he really had believed that that was all there was to it.

That was, until two days ago when he'd gotten back to the medical center with the antibiotics— antibiotics she'd needed to save her life— and she hadn't been there.

He hadn't been prepared for the flood of adrenaline and fear that had overtaken him, the drive to the cabin flashing by rapidly as he sped almost recklessly though the town and out onto the backroads, dread wrapping like a steel band around his chest, squeezing tighter with every mile, making it hard to breathe.

It was a feeling he'd known pretty well, one he'd felt before; this was just the first time he'd ever felt it without a gun pressed to his head.

It was around then that he'd started to realize it, whether he'd wanted to or not.

Protecting her— being there for her, looking out for her— was about far more than a simple sense of obligation.

At the time, though, he'd pushed the thought away, focusing only on getting her out of the cabin and back to the medical center as fast as was physically possible, breaking just about every road law— not that those really mattered anymore— as he did so.

But hell, when he'd found her on the floor of the cabin... he didn't particularly want to revisit that memory. Even once he'd gotten her back to the clinic and the doctors had taken over, he'd been half-convinced they were too late.

He'd paced in her room for three hours, sat in the chair by her bed for another four— and then, within five minutes of waking, she'd kicked him out.

Watching her sleep before him now, safe and healthy and whole in her own bed, he wondered how she was going to react when she woke to find him still here, a fairly large and unavoidable reminder that last night had definitely happened.

Honestly, he still didn't know what this was— whether he was playing stand-in for Peter now, or if he was just the convenient rebound guy, or—

Or whether maybe she saw this as something else, something... more.

Because fuck, he was pretty sure he did.

Closing his eyes briefly, he pressed a knuckle hard against his temple, drawing in a slow, silent breath. Whatever happened, he'd just follow her lead; if she just wanted to forget last night and pretend it never happened, he could do that. Not the option he'd prefer, but he could handle it. In some ways, it would probably be the smart thing to do, preventing this whole thing from getting more complicated than it already was.

Usually, he tended to avoid complicated in the first place, careful not to get himself involved, but somehow Julia— the very  _definition_  of complicated— seemed to have a way of making herself the exception.

Opening his eyes, he let them drift over her face once more, feeling the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the edge of his mouth— one that soon faded as his gaze fell once again to her hand, her ring glinting dully at him in the dim light of the morning, a grim, silent reminder.

Yeah, 'complicated' really didn't quite cover it.

He was still staring at the ring— and thinking yet again about how much he should  _not_  be here— when he saw her stir, a tiny frown creasing her forehead as she woke, her eyes slowly opening to find his. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath as they simply stared at each other for a moment, her gaze sharpening as she woke fully, her blue eyes unreadable.

Acting on impulse, he reached over, gently tucking away a loose strand that had fallen over her cheek, feeling a tiny flare of warmth in his chest as she smiled at him, a sweet, sleepy grin.

The smile faded quickly, though, the warmth he'd felt following in its wake.

Seeing the discomfort begin to build behind her eyes, and the silent, self-conscious movement as she drew back the hand that had rested between them, Barbie felt his jaw tighten, his whole body suddenly tense.

He'd known this was coming; he'd been prepared for it, ready. Hell, hadn't he even thought he'd  _wanted_  this to happen, wanted them to brush off last night like it was nothing, to spare them both the complications that this thing between them would bring?

As she shifted, however, turning wordlessly away from him, the sudden hollow feeling in his gut made him think that maybe he'd been wrong about that.

Shoving back that thought— and the unfamiliar ache that went with it— Barbie forced himself to move, sitting up carefully so as not to disturb her, his mind already planning his unobtrusive exit.

The sudden touch of her hand on his arm halted him, her soft but insistent "No" almost not registering in his brain.

Carefully controlling the unexpected emotions that had surged within him at her touch, Barbie looked down at her, seeing the shy honesty in her eyes as she spoke again.

"I'd like you to stay."

Shit. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

But he would.

Shit.

His eyes still locked with hers, he slowly settled back against the mattress, trying to read her gaze, trying to figure out what his next move should be.

Then, as he usually did, he simply followed his gut.

Brushing a thumb lightly over her cheek, he leaned in, and felt her respond instantly, her lips already parting for his—

The sharp, insistent knock at the front door broke through the quiet of the bedroom, and for a moment Barbie closed his eyes, cursing silently. He felt Julia shift, and cursed again, grudgingly preparing to let her go— only to realize she had moved closer, her body pressing against his, her eyes almost playful as they looked down into his.

"They will go away," she whispered, her smiling lips finding his.

Jesus. She never stopped surprising him.

Sliding a hand up the smooth skin of her back, Barbie put just a little more into the kiss, feeling her arch against him as he pressed his lips to her chin, her jaw, her neck—

The knocking came again, louder this time, and he reflexively clenched his jaw, swiftly burying his frustration. He felt Julia's warm breath feather against his skin as she sighed, the tiny sound seeming to express the same irritation and resignation he felt.

Watching her slip gracefully from the bed— all smooth curves and perfect, creamy skin— he tried to convince himself that it was probably a good thing they'd been interrupted, giving them both some time to figure things out before getting in even deeper than they already were.

Still, as that amazing body disappeared under a light robe, moving further and further out of his reach, he couldn't help but feel a small flash of regret, accompanied by a stronger sense of dislike for their faceless visitor. Just as he had that thought, there was a third knock, and immediately Julia's eyes found his, shooting him a brief, rueful look before she reluctantly turned, disappearing through the doorway to head for the stairs.

For a moment he just stared after her— carefully avoiding thinking too much about what this all meant, and where the hell they stood now— before he finally forced himself to move, climbing from the bed to dig around in his pack for some clothes.

He should get going, go out and and see if Linda needed help, find something useful to do with his time.

After all, no matter who it was at the door, he got the feeling that he and Julia probably wouldn't be alone again for a while.

Which, when he thought about it, was probably a good thing.

###

Julia and the newcomer were still at the door when he came downstairs, an unfamiliar female voice drifting in through the open doorway. For a moment he paused at the base of the stairs— distracted briefly by the sight of Julia's bare legs under the robe, far too aware of the fact that she wore absolutely nothing underneath it— then forcibly made himself continue on, joining them at the doorway.

"Oh, hi," the other woman said quickly, clearly startled to see that Julia had company.

Glancing at her— his lingering trace of resentment swiftly disappearing as he saw her obviously pregnant stomach— Barbie gave a tiny nod. "Morning."

As cool and collected as ever, Julia caught his eye— he wondered if he saw just a trace of amusement hidden there— her voice casual as she introduced them.

"Barbie, this is my neighbor, Harriet."

Then, as if to prevent any further discussion, she directed her next comment at Harriet with a small smile, her words answering the question of the other woman's presence. "I think I have that yogurt."

Still seeming a little off-balance— finding a strange guy in the house of a technically married woman would do that to you, he supposed— Harriet nodded, and he quickly shifted out of the way to let her pass, his eyes meeting Julia's once the she had gone. Leaning lightly against the doorway, she met his gaze openly, as if trying to gauge what he was thinking.

Honestly, as of this moment, most of his thoughts seemed to involve pressing her against the doorframe and kissing her slowly— but he forced those away, electing instead to give her a small nod before heading for the porch steps.

He'd barely taken more than a step or so when she spoke up behind him, making him pause, turning back to face her.

"Where are you off to?" she asked, one eyebrow arching in mild challenge. "Running away?"

Her tone was light, almost teasing, but somehow he heard the frankess of the question, the faint echo of vulnerability hiding behind her words.

Meeting her eyes squarely, he shot her a gentle 'come on' look, trying to show her that the possibility hadn't even occurred to him— which, surprisingly enough, it hadn't. Then, still holding her gaze, he spoke in a low voice, explaining as honestly as he could.

"Half the town going nuts yesterday, that wasn't a fluke— so, Linda could still use my help."

It definitely wasn't the whole story, but right now, it was all he would give.

Her only response was a small, tight nod, but he could see that— in some small way, at least— she did understand. Giving her a brief almost-smile, he turned and continued down the porch steps, forcing himself not to glance back.

Being apart for a while was the smartest thing they could do right now, giving them both some time to figure things out, to realize just how bad an idea the whole thing was.

Still, even as he walked away, he knew that he'd be back here— back to her— soon enough.

He couldn't stay away for long.

###

His hunch about the fuel had paid off.

Moving at a half-crouch through the deserted streets, Barbie tracked the two Dundee brothers, steadily gaining on their trail, lessening the lead they'd gotten on him when they'd taken off near the gas station.

It wasn't particularly hard to keep up; they were stupid, and loud, and— unlike him— completely untrained in stealth and urban warfare. He knew that, simply by keeping a small distance behind them, he could track them all the way to where they'd been hiding out, waiting until they reached cover and let their guard down— and then all he'd have to do was radio in the position to Linda and the others and get them to storm the place, catching the brothers unprepared.

It was a solid plan, simple, requiring very little involvement on his part, which was pretty much fine by him. As long as the end result included Linda hauling the brothers into a cell, he was happy to sit back and let the real cops take care of it.

That was, until he did a side-check around a corner and saw them gasjacking a car at gunpoint.

The small silver hatchback they had cornered wasn't familiar to him— but the driver certainly was, her long, red hair easy to see even from this distance, the sight hitting him like a punch to the gut.

And just like that, the plan changed.

The shift from surveillance to combat mode happened instinctively, without conscious thought— suddenly he was a soldier again, falling immediately back into battlefield mentality.

Neutralize the threat. Protect your squad.

Protect  _her._

Moving silently, Barbie covered the distance between them quickly, his eyes fixed on the two brothers' backs, his gun up and ready.

He had the clear advantage; posture alone told him that the younger was going to be a runner, and the leader of the two— while armed— was distracted and untrained. Barbie was on him within seconds, his disarm fast and automatic, the kid's nose breaking instantly under the force of the blow from his elbow, a pained groan escaping the young guy's lips as his body landed heavily in the dirt.

With both guns now in his possession, Barbie turned his back on the scrambling teenager, his eyes immediately seeking Julia. Seeing her climb hurriedly from the car— intact and unharmed— he released a sharp, relieved breath, then swiftly shifted his focus, reaching for his radio.

Reporting quickly to Linda, he sought out the fleeing fugitive, sighting up and loosing a single round that punctured straight through the kid's right calf— a deliberate, non-lethal shot, one that would slow the brothers enough that they wouldn't be able to evade Linda and Junior for long.

Then, putting the Dundees out of his mind— they were Linda's problem now— Barbie shoved his radio back into his belt, turning back to the car just as Julia looked back at him, her eyes anxious, her voice urgent.

"She's going into labor. We've got to get her to the clinic."

"That's not gonna happen," he answered grimly, his eyes on Harriet's flushed and frightened face. "I just went by there. It's closed."

Glancing back to Julia for ideas— somehow unsurprised to realize that he considered her to be the leader in this situation— he saw her bite her lip, clearly thinking fast.

"Alice," she said suddenly, her eyes finding his as she quickly explained, "She's a doctor. She's staying with Joe McCallister, only— well, this car's not going anywhere now."

"Then let's start walking," he said, already moving forward to help Harriet out of the back seat. Hooking her arm around his shoulder, he turned them to the north-east, already making calculations. Even at their slowed pace, they could probably make it to the house within fifteen to twenty minutes— that was, provided they didn't meet with any trouble.

Well. Definitely not the best odds he'd ever faced, but not the worst, either.

Just as he had that thought, Harriet let out yet another sharp cry of pain, and he glanced down at her, carefully controlling his apprehension.

If they didn't make it to Alice in time…

Seemingly having the same thought, Julia caught his eye from her position on Harriet's other side, her blue eyes worried.

"Should I try and run ahead?" she asked, the uncertainty and concern clear in her tone, "Maybe bring Alice back—"

"No," he answered sharply, then took a breath, continuing more steadily, "We're safest together. I need you as another lookout."

It was true; half-carrying Harriet as he was, he couldn't watch their backs, couldn't scan ahead for threats. Without Julia's eyes, they were vulnerable, exposed, the very definition of an easy target. They needed her.

Mostly, though, there was just no way in hell would he let her walk these streets alone.

"Okay," she agreed after a moment, something in her tone telling him that she'd caught the tiny flare of panic behind his words, that she knew there was more that he had left unsaid. Pausing to steady Harriet through another contraction— she could barely stay upright when they hit— he waited until they were moving again before reaching for the gun he'd taken from the elder Dundee, sliding it out of his waistband and holding it out, grip first, to Julia.

"Here," he muttered, still watching the road ahead.

There was a brief pause, and when she spoke, he could hear the mixture of understanding and hesitation to her words. "Barbie—"

"It's just in case," he assured her quietly, his eyes meeting hers. "I've got mine, I'll handle any trouble that might come up. Just consider it a precaution."

Holding his gaze, she nodded silently, reaching over to accept the gun from him, her hand trembling but her grip firm, her technique good. Realizing that she knew how to handle a gun, Barbie felt a small flicker of respect and relief, the weight on his shoulders lessening just a little.

Together, he and Julia would get Harriet— and her baby— through this.

Looking ahead once more, he kept them moving, supporting the laboring woman as best he could, trusting Julia to watch their backs.

"We've got you, Harriet. Just hold on. We've got you."

###

He was still waiting for the adrenaline to wear off.

The house felt too quiet to him now, the heavy silence a sharp contrast to the noise and commotion of barely an hour before.

And in amongst that silence, somewhere above his head, Alice was dying.

Just minutes ago he'd carried her upstairs, had done his best to settle her as comfortably as he could before leaving the two of them alone, returning downstairs to do the same for Harriet and baby Alice, setting them up in Joe's room. He didn't like to think about how different the moods had been in the two adjacent rooms, joy and life neighboring grief and death. Instead, he'd just stared at the small, pink bundle in Harriet's arms, felt the surprising strength of five tiny fingers gripping his as he'd said goodnight.

It was only as he'd slowly descended the stairs that he'd really realized it, had understood the weird lightness in his chest, the almost wonder-like feeling he'd experienced when he'd looked at little Alice.

He'd taken part in ending a lot of lives, but this— this was the first that he'd helped give.

He was still absorbing that fact when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, finding Julia on the couch in the living room, her head in her hands. Immediately, he took a reflexive step forward, but then paused, torn; he wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he wasn't sure whether she would want him to, or whether he even had the right.

After a brief moment of painful indecision, he made his choice, moving through to the dining room and starting to clean up, giving her the option of a little space as he set the chairs and cushions back in their proper places.

Carrying one of the cushions back to the couch, he saw that she'd lifted her had, watching him with solemn eyes. Wishing there was something he could say to ease the sadness in her eyes, Barbie dropped his gaze, moving wordlessly past her before leaning down to fit the cushion back into place.

"That was pretty amazing, what you did," she said quietly, and he looked up, his eyes silently meeting hers.

What Alice had done had been amazing. What Harriet had done had been even more so. Even Julia herself had been incredible, staying by Harriet's side every second of the way, soothing and encouraging her, keeping her focused and strong. He knew with certainty that Harriet couldn't have gotten through the birth without her.

And hell, if it hadn't been for Julia, he wouldn't have even been there at all. Had Harriet been with absolutely anyone else, he'd have gotten them safely to help, and then would have been straight back out there, back on patrol, back to things he knew.

But she had been with Julia, and he had seen how great Julia was with her, how much she cared. He'd seen her sincerity, her silent determination to be there for the panicking woman no matter what— and if she was staying, so was he.

He'd meant that to be the extent of it. To be there for security and moral support, maybe fetch things for Alice, that kind of thing— but that was all.

He'd never expected to end up with a baby in his arms.

He was still trying to find the words to tell her that when the front door suddenly banged open, the two teenagers rushing into the room.

"Where's my mom?"

For a split second there was silence as the four of them looked at each other, the movement of his hand going unnoticed as he slowly lowered it away from the gun in his waistband.

"Upstairs," Julia answered quietly, clearly working hard to keep her voice even. Still, they all heard the grim truth beneath her tone, the emotion that couldn't be hidden.

Looking terrified, the girl turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Joe lingering uncertainly in the foyer. After a moment of indecision, he shot them both a helpless look, then also turned for the stairs, slowly trailing after his friend.

As the kid's steps faded, Barbie glanced once more at Julia, seeing the bright sheen to her eyes, the tightness of her jaw as she held back the tears.

Taking a breath, he slowly sank onto the couch beside her, putting a cautious arm around her shoulders and gently drawing her against him. Her response was immediate, her body leaning into his, her breathing ragged as she buried her face in his neck. Letting out a slow, relieved breath, Barbie smoothed a hand over her hair, his lips touching lightly to the top of her head as he held her just a little tighter.

Eventually— he had no idea how long they'd stayed like that— he carefully began to pull away, drawing his arm from around her shoulders. The small, automatic protest that escaped her lips almost halted him, but he made himself shake it off, his eyes meeting hers as she lifted her head from his shoulder. Holding her gaze, he shifted over on the couch, stretching one leg out behind her and leaning back against the cushions before silently holding out a hand.

He saw the flash of gratitude in her eyes— and maybe just a hint of something more— before she came to him, scooting over on the couch and settling her back against his chest, molding into him in a way that was far easier and more comfortable than it should have been. Exhaling slowly, Barbie laced the fingers of his right hand with hers, his left coming to rest lightly atop her stomach, his breath catching slightly as she silently placed her hand over his, her thumb brushing softly against his knuckles.

He felt her let out a long, silent sigh, felt some of the tension in her body slowly begin to ease, not even noticing as his own muscles gradually followed suit, truly relaxing for the first time in a really long time.

It was then, with her warm and soft against him, that he made a decision; for now at least, he was done with the overthinking, the doubts and questions and hesitation. There was something between him and Julia, and despite being complicated by circumstances and most likely already doomed to go down in flames, it was all either of them had right now— and they should appreciate it while they could.

So, when her head shifted against his shoulder, turning to lift her eyes to his, he simply did what felt right, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead, letting them linger for a long moment before resting his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes.

Whatever this was— whatever they were— they could talk about it later.

For now, he just wanted to lie here and forget everything else but her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows 1x08.

The screams woke her.

Jerking her head off of the pillow, Julia looked around blindly, momentarily disoriented as her eyes squinted in the darkness.

A moment later, the sound came again, a shrill, insistent wail— and with it came some semblance of cognizance, her fingers tightening around the cushion as she recalled her surroundings. Arching her back against the confines of the McAlister's couch— now occupied by her alone— Julia shifted to prop herself up slightly on one elbow, still near-blind in the dark lounge room.

"Barbie?" she called softly, a tiny prickle of anxiety lodging like a splinter under her skin.

"Here," was his low reply, the nearness of his voice instantly soothing her. Shifting towards the sound, she peered over the edge of the couch, feeling the tension in her muscles ease almost instantly as her slowly-adjusting eyes took in the darkened shape on the floor beside her.

For a moment, she simply looked down at him, feeling his returning gaze on her through the gloom.

When she finally spoke, her words were soft, a prelude to an apology. "Did I kick you off?"

"No," he answered, a subtle warmth to his tone as he explained, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable with a bit more room."

Frowning slightly, she forced her sleep-clouded mind to focus, pushing the continuing cries from upstairs to the back of her mind as she tried to remember. Slowly, like a developing photograph, the vague memory came back to her; his slow, careful movements as he'd sat them both up, his steadying hands at her shoulders as he'd risen from the couch, slipping strong arms beneath her before lifting and resettling her as easily as if she'd been a child.

As the image came back to her fully, she closed her eyes in embarrassment, remembering the way she'd clung to his arm as he'd begun to pull away, gripping tight like the world would fall apart if she let go. Beyond that, her memory faltered; he must have knelt there by the couch until she'd fallen back to sleep, waiting until her hold had loosened before extricating his arm and settling down to get some rest himself. Where he'd found the blankets that now covered each of them, she had no idea.

Opening her eyes once again against the blackness, Julia pushed back the memory of a phantom hand smoothing back her hair, of gentle fingertips against her cheek. Drawing in a slow breath, she bit her lip, her cheeks heating with a mixture of embarrassment and something she couldn't quite name.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, staring across the dim room, deliberately looking anywhere but where he lay.

A tiny, amused huff drifted up from the space beside her, so soft she almost missed it. When he did speak a moment later, his voice was gentle. "Don't be. The floor's fine."

Shifting to look down at him once more, Julia hesitated for a moment, then drew her hand from under the cushion to reach down tentatively, her palm resting lightly upon his chest. A moment later, she felt his fingers cover her own, his grip warm as he lifted her hand briefly to his lips before returning it to its previous spot, keeping it cradled carefully against his sternum, directly above his heart.

Neither said anything more, and as the soft cries from upstairs faded away completely, Julia simply closed her eyes, letting the gentle rhythm of Barbie's breathing slowly lull her back into sleep.

###

The next time she woke, her fingers found only open air.

She was fully awake and alert almost instantly, a small bolt of panic jump-starting her nerves. Swiftly lifting herself on an elbow, she looked over the edge of the couch, her stomach clenching at the sight of the empty space beside her.

Drawing in a slow, steadying breath, Julia forced herself to relax, willing her racing heart to calm. Once she had regained her ability to focus, the morning sunlight filling the room became clearly evident, as did the realization that Barbie was highly likely to simply be in one of the nearby rooms, having breakfast or checking on the other occupants of the house.

Just as she had that thought, she heard noises drifting from the direction of the kitchen, her head dropping momentarily to her pillow with an embarrassed huff at her overreaction. Then, pushing herself up from the couch, she stretched, straightening her dress and running a hand half-heartedly though her hair before wandering through to the other room.

It was not Barbie she found, though, but Joe, a troubled frown on the teen's face as he searched vainly through the cupboards, his movements careful as he tried not to make any noise.

"Morning," Julia said, crossing to grab a glass from beside the sink.

"Oh, morning," Joe answered distractedly, glancing over briefly before poking his head back into the cupboard. Filling up her glass, Julia turned to lean against the counter, her eyes involuntarily glancing around for any sign of the house's other occupants.

Or, more accurately, of one occupant in particular.

A second later, Joe's voice emerged from the cupboard, his words accompanied by the sound of shifting pots and pans. "Barbie's out front, in case you were looking."

Hastily swallowing down her mouthful of water, Julia cleared her throat slightly, her deliberately casual tone fooling neither of them.

"Out front?"

Drawing back from the cupboard, the teen gave her an uncomfortable look.

"Yeah, you know— digging," he said haltingly, seeming unsure how to word his answer. "For Alice's…. uh, for Alice."

"Oh," she murmured, her eyes lowering. Her thoughts lingered sadly on Alice for a few moments before she drew a breath, her gaze flicking towards the front of the house. "How long has he been out there?"

Joe shrugged, his lanky shoulders jerking awkwardly. "Maybe an hour? I saw him when he came upstairs to check on Harriet and the baby, and we kinda talked about it and decided that Alice should stay here. I mean, Norrie and Carolyn haven't come out yet so we couldn't ask them, but Barbie said that he'd dig it for them anyway and if they wanted to take her somewhere else then he'd dig them another one."

Thinking that over, Julia released a slow breath, then gave Joe an encouraging smile. "I think that was a good idea, Joe. It's nice here. It'll be a good place for her."

Joe nodded, his eyes downcast. "Yeah. Barbie and I picked a nice spot, too, near one of the trees in the yard."

There was silence for a moment as they both thought of the woman lying upstairs, the woman who had spent the last days of her life surrounded by near-strangers, and who would now remain forever in a town that was not her home. Sighing quietly, Julia drained the rest of her glass, then turned to refill it as Joe returned to his former task.

Carrying the glass out into the front hall with her, she left it on a side table for a moment while she ducked into the bathroom, freshening up as best she could. Grabbing the glass again as she emerged, she headed outside, pausing briefly on the porch to watch him work.

He'd made good headway already, the neat rectangle already almost waist-deep— and it occurred to her then that this was likely not his first experience with digging graves.

The thought gave her mixed feelings, respect and pity being the strongest. Descending the porch steps, she walked across the lawn in the sunshine, consciously enjoying its warmth on her skin. Despite all that had happened, there were still some good things left to appreciate— the kindness of strangers, warm sunshine, and most of all, Barbie— and she was going to try to hold on to that.

"You're pretty good at that," she observed aloud as she drew near, ensuring that her tone conveyed her lack of judgment for the connotations. "Nice military corners."

Looking down at him as he accepted the glass from her, Julia felt the familiar flutter in her stomach, her eyes glancing at the muscles that shifted beneath his t-shirt before returning to his face, the sweat and dirt doing nothing to detract from his appeal.

"Pretty sure you're thinking about a bed."

Well, _now_  she was. Specifically, one with him in it, which— she thought with a slight shiver— would probably be hers. Tonight.

Forcibly drawing back her focus, she lifted her shoulder in a tiny, casual shrug. "Same shape."

Leaning against the side of the grave, Barbie took another quiet sip, then lifted his gaze to hers.

"Any idea when Carolyn and Norrie want to bury her?"

Glancing over at the house, Julia let out a soft breath. "They haven't come downstairs yet."

Turning to look back at him, she gave her head a small shake, her voice low. "I can't imagine losing a spouse like that."

"Yeah," he muttered by way of agreement, shovel already back in hand. As he began to dig once more, she turned to go, then paused as a thought occurred to her.

"It's strange, huh?"

Leaning on his shovel, Barbie looked up at her, his brow creasing. "What's that?"

"Alice dies, Harriet has a baby… same house, same day?" she said, lifting her eyebrows. Coincidence or not, it was definitely odd; but then again, nothing about the dome had ever been normal. "Circle of life," she said after a moment, almost more to herself than him. Then, leaving him to it, she slowly headed back towards the house, her thoughts drifting.

The dome continued to add more mysteries. Maybe, sometime soon, they would finally find some answers.

###

The sound of boots climbing the steps roused her from her daydream, her eyes opening to blink against the sunlight. Looking over from her spot on the porch swing, she saw him pause to lean against the railing, a tiny almost-smile on his face as his eyes met hers.

"Didn't realize you were still out here," he commented, the curve of his biceps momentarily distracting her as he casually folded his arms across his chest.

Blinking, Julia forcibly shifted her gaze upward, giving a small shrug. "Just needed a little time away from everyone, I guess."

She saw him process that, his posture straightening as he glanced towards the door. "You want me to—"

Instantly, she shook her head, not bothering to let him finish. Instead, she turned so that she could place her feet back on the ground, her body shifting aside to make room for him, the swing rocking gently beneath her. Looking up at him with a tiny, shy smile, she tilted her head just slightly, a silent invitation.

Pushing away from the porch rail, he came to her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he settled onto the swing beside her. Feigning more confidence than she actually felt, Julia reached out, curling her hand over his where it rested on his knee— and felt a tiny bubble of warmth form in her chest as his hand automatically adjusted to suit her grip, his fingers warm and strong as they closed gently around hers.

For a minute or two they simply sat there in silence, looking out over the sunny yard, the dark scar of the now-completed grave marring the otherwise cheerful green. If Barbie noted the fact that her spot on the swing would have afforded her a perfect view of him as he'd worked, he said nothing; in truth, he seemed too distracted to even notice, his gaze contemplative, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere as his thumb brushed absentmindedly back and forth against her skin.

Her thoughts, however, were focused very much on the present; as ever, she was hyperaware of his proximity, tiny tingles radiating along her nerves from every place they touched. It was ridiculous, a schoolgirl-crush kind of reaction that was completely unfamiliar to her, and it rattled her even as it thrilled her.

She was still wondering at the strength of their unexpected connection when she felt Barbie draw in a deep breath beside her, his voice low and almost tentative as he spoke her name.

"Julia…"

Suddenly, a burst of static cut through the air, his next words abruptly silenced as Linda's voice crackled through his radio.

_"Barbie? You there?"_

He exhaled sharply at the interruption, though out of frustration or relief she couldn't be sure. Unsure of exactly what his next words had been about to be, she was feeling a similar combination of emotions, ones that were immediately joined by a tiny flicker of disappointment as his hand left hers, his body leaning away momentarily as he reached back to draw his radio from his belt.

Glancing at her, he lifted the radio to his lips. "Yeah, Linda, what's up?"

_"We need you in at the station. Jim's calling a meeting."_

She saw his eyes close briefly, then glance out towards the road, his expression resigned. "I'm out at the McAlister place. Haven't got any wheels so the fastest I can get there is about fifteen minutes, maybe ten."

_"I'll come get you,"_  Linda's voice replied immediately.  _"I'll fill you in on the situation on the ride back."_

"Copy," was his only reply, his jaw taut as he lowered the radio, seemingly suppressing a sigh.

The next moment, he twisted away from her, tucking the radio back into his belt on the opposite side before straightening once more, his body brushing against her side. Then, to her surprise, she felt his hand slip under her wrist, meeting hers palm-to-palm as he threaded his fingers through hers.

Returning his grip, Julia squeezed gently. "They need you," she murmured, her eyes lowering to their joined hands so he wouldn't see the real truth that lay behind them, the request to stay that was on the tip of her tongue. She felt his eyes lift to her face, then shift to follow her own gaze to their hands, his thumb rubbing slowly across hers as he thought.

He sighed softly, and seemed about to speak when he suddenly stilled, his fingers tightening around hers, his gaze becoming sharp as he stared at their hands.

Or rather, at  _her_  hand— and her now-bare ring finger, previously unnoticed in the midst of the drama and distractions of the day before— and she could have almost sworn she heard the faintest stutter in his breathing, so tiny that it was almost imperceptible. He recovered quickly, however, his grip easing as he looked out over the yard once more, his body calm, his usual unshakable composure swiftly restored.

Neither made any mention of the ring's absence, or the significance thereof; but as his thumb resumed its gentle trail against her skin, his body pressing just a little closer to hers, she still felt as if they'd both said what they needed to say.

A few minutes later, they saw Linda's cruiser approaching down the road, and she watched Barbie's jaw clench just slightly, his fingers tightening reflexively around hers.

"Do you want to catch a ride back with us?" he asked, his voice quiet, something in his tone telling her that it was more than just a casual offer. When his gaze lifted to hers, she saw the answer there, his reluctance to go taking on a completely new meaning as she realized that it was not the relative comfort and security of the farmhouse that he didn't want to leave, but  _her_.

Oh.

"No, it's okay," she told him gently, her body leaning into his for a moment. "I think I'm going to stay around here for the day, keep an eye on the teens and make sure Harriet and the baby are doing alright."

Then, after a brief pause, she added quietly, "We'll keep an eye out for any trouble, Barbie. We'll be okay."

His face serious, Barbie gave a short nod. "I'll see you back here, then?"

Giving him a small smile, she nodded. "I'll be here."

For a moment longer he held her gaze, then finally looked away and rose wordlessly to his feet, his fingers squeezing hers briefly before he finally let go, jogging down the porch steps to meet Linda. As he reached the car, she saw his eyes lift to meet hers one last time before he slid into the passenger's seat, the door closing behind him with a dull slam.

Throughout it all, her smile held, fading only once the cruiser had swung back around and began heading back into town, pulling Barbie into whatever new crisis had befallen Chester's Mill.

Rising to stand silently at the porch rail, she watched the cruiser disappear from sight, then released a slow breath, the worry she had so carefully suppressed now rising into her chest, a heavy weight that wrapped around her heart.

_Be safe_ , she thought, then turned sharply and crossed the porch, stepping over the threshold and disappearing inside without looking back, the door swinging firmly shut behind her.

###

The kitchen was quiet; its occupants downcast, subdued, the darkness outside seeming to reflect their mood.

Leaning against the counter, Julia contemplated her scrambled eggs, the fork loose in her hand as she stared unseeingly at the plate. At the table, Harriet nursed baby Alice, murmuring quietly to the sleeping infant while the two young McAlisters poked halfheartedly at their own dinners, too tired and dejected for conversation.

It had been a big day for all of them, taxing in more ways than one, and the knowledge of what was still to come— the burial of the woman they'd considered a friend— loomed over them all like a dark cloud.

Julia's thoughts shifted back and forth, lingering on the family upstairs, on the mystery of mini-domes and monarchs, and— perhaps most of all— on Barbie's continued absence, tiny seeds of real fear beginning to grow and bloom in her chest, joining the muted sense of worry that had long since ingrained itself in her bones. There'd been no word from him in the hours since he'd left with Linda, and the dull rumble of a distant explosion that had echoed through the dome barely an hour or two before had left her feeling increasingly uneasy, her gut heavy with an unshakable sense of dread.

The thoughts of Barbie had her lifting her head yet again, glancing past the dining table and towards the doorway with searching eyes— an action she had repeated countless times over the evening, always with the same result.

No matter how much she looked, Barbie did not appear.

Spearing a piece of egg with her fork, Julia thought about Joe's words from earlier, his suggestion that she and Barbie were... something.  _A thing_. She hadn't thought too deeply about it— in fact, since that small moment of panic outside the cement factory, she had actually put quite a bit of effort into  _not_  thinking too much about it— but the more this day wore on, the harder it became not to analyze what existed between them. She knew she felt something for him, felt a  _lot_  for him, just as she knew that when she'd needed comfort the night before, he had been the only one she'd wanted to provide it. And he had, without hesitation or restraint; his arms coming protectively around her, drawing her into him, his embrace feeling far too much like home.

She was just considering— not for the first time that evening— that Joe might actually be more correct than even he realized, when the faint sound of the front door closing had her head snapping up once more, her eyes fixing on the kitchen doorway as the sound of muted footfalls drew closer.

When he appeared in the doorway a moment later— slightly dirty and disheveled, but seeming altogether unharmed— she felt her breath catch somewhere in her throat, her heart pounding hard and fast as his eyes met and held with hers, the intensity in his gaze telling her that she had not been the only one who'd been waiting all day for this moment.

Oh, yeah, they were definitely a thing.

A single, silent moment of communication was all they had before the kitchen's other occupants intruded: Joe sat abruptly upright, his expression lightening considerably as he called a greeting; Angie turned in her chair, favouring Barbie with a tired but welcoming smile; and Harriet— who, Julia knew, had come to view Barbie as somewhat of her own personal hero— simply beamed, reaching out a hand as she excitedly invited him to come see little Alice.

Smiling at the group around the table— somehow Julia knew she was the only one that could tell the effort it took him— Barbie sent her one more expressive glance before crossing the room to Harriet's side, his manner easy and attentive as he listened to her recount Alice's every action over the day, even allowing her to hand the sleeping baby over for him to hold.

Still half-watching him, Julia made up another plate of scrambled eggs and took it over to where he stood, one hand gently touching his back as she placed the plate on the table before him. He turned at her touch, baby Alice still cradled in his large arms, and the quiet look of thanks that he gave her was so intimate, so full of warmth and tenderness that she actually had to take a step back, the image of him with a child creating a sudden and unexpected surge of wanting that hit her like a physical blow.

She almost didn't hear his murmured thanks, could only force a small smile and make a hasty retreat to her place beside the counter, determinedly focusing on her own meal until her emotions had settled once more.

When she finally looked up, Harriet was once more rocking Alice, and Barbie now sat in the chair beside her, responding to Joe's questions about his day with simple, broad answers that told her the truth was significantly more complicated. She'd hear the full story from him later, she knew, once they were alone— a thought that yet again had her wishing that time would pass more quickly, that she and Barbie could be home already, could finally have time together free from distractions or interruptions.

It was a wish that she knew wasn't going to be granted any time soon.

When there was a slight pause in Joe's questions, Barbie smoothly changed the subject. "How are Norrie and Carolyn holding up?"

At the reminder, Joe seemed to deflate a little, his eyes glancing toward the ceiling. "They're ready. They wanted to wait for you."

Eyes lowering to his near-empty plate, Barbie gave a silent nod, then a moment later drew a deep breath, clearly steeling himself. As he rose, carefully pushing his chair back from the table, Julia thought she saw just the tiniest hitch in his movements, curiosity and concern flickering briefly in her chest as she watched him.

"I'll go see them," he said in a low voice, then picked up his plate, his eyes avoiding each of the several gazes that followed his every movement.

"But you only just got to sit down—" Harriet began, but Barbie simply shook his head, his voice quiet but firm.

"They've waited long enough."

Still leaning against the counter, Julia watched as he crossed over to her side of the kitchen, his eyes holding hers briefly before he passed behind her, moving silently to the sink to rinse his dinner plate. Stepping over to him, she rested a gentle hand on his forearm, then reached for the plate.

"I've got it," she murmured softly, feeling the tension in him ease just a fraction under her touch, his breath releasing in a long, silent exhale. "Go."

"Thanks," he answered, his quiet reply seeming to convey more than just gratitude. Holding his gaze for a moment longer, she gave him a tiny nod, then stepped aside to let him go, her fingers slipping reluctantly from his arm.

As Barbie moved back through the kitchen, Joe cleared his throat slightly, sounding almost nervous as he spoke up.

"Barbie— if it's okay— I want to help."

Watching him pause, Julia saw him eye the teenager, clearly thinking.

"You got an extra shovel anywhere?"

Joe nodded earnestly, and after a split second's hesitation, Barbie gave a brief nod back.

"Go grab it."

As Joe hurriedly climbed from his seat, Barbie looked back, his eyes catching hers once more. Then, he seemed to take a deep breath, his shoulders straightening as he turned and headed back through the doorway he'd entered only minutes before, his footsteps slowly fading as he ascended the stairs.

For several minutes, there was near-silence in the kitchen as Julia quietly scrubbed the remaining dishes, everyone listening for the sounds of Barbie's return. When it came, the footfalls on the staircase now slower and more deliberate, they all knew what it meant; rising silently, they waited at the doorway for Barbie to reach the hall, his face grim, Alice's sheet-shrouded form carried respectfully in his arms.

Behind him came Norrie and Carolyn, their hands gripping each other tightly, their heads bowed.

It was Angie who went to the front door and held it open, her face pale but set as the humble funeral procession filed past her. Hearing Harriet's quiet sniffling, Julia put a hand on her shoulder in support, the two of them the last to make their way down to the graveside.

As they reached it, Barbie was carefully laying Alice's still form at the base of the grave, his touch gentle, compassionate, handling her with a care that made Julia's throat tighten. A moment later he had joined the waiting Joe, accepting the larger of the two shovels before looking to Carolyn and Norrie. At Carolyn's nod, he and Joe began the grim task of filling the grave, their shovels and Norrie's muffled sobs making the only sounds to pierce the still air.

It was only when Barbie and Joe set aside their shovels that Carolyn found the strength to speak, her voice breaking as she told them about the day she and Alice had met and how she'd known even then that she was the One. Reflexively, Julia glanced over to where Barbie stood just feet away, only to find his eyes already on her, a depth to his gaze that stole her breath.

A moment later he had shifted to her side, his hand finding hers and gripping gently.

Grateful, she squeezed his fingers slightly, then dropped her eyes to the grave. Carolyn had fallen silent, no longer able to speak, and they all now stood in silence, each saying their own prayer of thanks and farewell.

Looking around the solemn group, Julia drew a slow breath, then looked up at the invisible dome above them, her hand tightening around Barbie's as she sent up one last prayer.

A prayer that Alice would be the last they would lose.

###

Their small, motley group divided sometime later, with solemn hugs and condolences exchanged as Julia and Barbie— along with Harriet and baby Alice— finally prepared to make their way home. Fighting exhaustion, the two women shared the backseat as Barbie wound carefully through the deserted streets, always mindful of the sleeping Alice, cradled now in Julia's arms. The car itself had been part of the reason for Barbie's earlier delay; when she'd asked him about it, he'd explained— in his usual brief, unassuming way— that he'd searched for an unoccupied house and taken the car from its place in the garage, knowing that Harriet was now in need of a new one.

It was an act that was both practical and kind, just two of the many attributes she was coming to associate with Barbie. Gently stroking little Alice's soft cheek, Julia marvelled at the tiny life she held, the small being that would not have survived without him— the newest addition to the list of lives he had protected or saved since the dome had trapped him in Chester's Mill, forever entwining his fate with theirs.

With hers.

As they slowed to a stop in front of Harriet's house— only fifty or so yards from her own— Barbie sent a quick glance back at the two of them, then smoothly climbed from the car, opening her door just a moment later before leaning in to unbuckle her seatbelt for her, careful not to disturb Alice. Forcibly ignoring the complete lack of space between them, Julia managed to meet his eyes and give him a smile of thanks, both of them lingering maybe a second longer than strictly necessary before he moved back, straightening and stepping away from the car.

Carefully extricating herself from the backseat, Julia let Barbie close the door for her while she handed Alice back into Harriet's waiting arms, smiling at both mother and daughter.

"Goodnight, Harriet," she said, taking care to keep her voice down. Then, with a brief, gentle stroke of Alice's downy hair, she added, "Goodnight, little Alice."

"I can't thank you enough for everything, Julia," Harriet told her, hugging Alice close to her chest.

Smiling, Julia waved away her thanks. "What are neighbors for? Plus, in times like this we've all got to stick together, right?"

As Harriet smiled back, Julia reached out and squeezed her shoulder briefly in farewell, then turned, her eyes immediately finding Barbie's.

The nod he gave her was small, a calming certainty to his quiet words. "I'll be back soon."

And if all went to plan, he would be. The current arrangement had been decided upon back at Joe's; rather than leaving Harriet alone to care for a newborn, Barbie was going to help her gather some things from her house before taking her to stay with her sister-in-law who lived just a few streets away. Once she was settled, he'd leave her new car there with her and walk back, the whole process hopefully not taking more than an hour or so.

She'd already offered to go with them, to follow in her Prius so that Barbie would have a ride home— but he'd gently turned her down, his eyes almost too understanding as they'd met hers, as if he could see her reluctance to be parted from him again warring with the growing sense of longing for her shower and bed. Seeing that same understanding in his eyes now, she didn't bother to repeat her offer, instead simply drawing in a silent breath, her fingers curling as she fought the urge to reach for him.

"Okay," was all she said, but the words she left unspoken were just as easy to hear.

_Just make sure you do come back._

Their eyes held for a moment longer, and then with a last brief round of 'goodnights' they were all moving, Barbie and Harriet heading for Harriet's front door and Julia for her own. After several yards, she paused and glanced back, smiling a little as she saw Barbie now carefully holding Alice while Harriet fumbled with her keys, some murmured comment from him making the new mother laugh.

Standing silently, Julia watched them disappear into the house, then breathed out slowly, the small smile still lingering on her lips as she turned again for home, thinking only of the warmth and comfort of her bed— and of the moment when Barbie would join her in it.

###

It was ridiculous that the simple sound of his footsteps on the stairs could give her butterflies.

Staring blindly at the page of her magazine, she tried incredibly hard not to count the seconds until he reached the door, her heart pounding faster as she saw him appear in her peripheral vision, his steps faltering as he hesitated slightly at the threshold.

Feeling her own tiny prickle of anxiety, she lifted her head, an invitation already on the tip of her tongue when she saw his eyes drop to his pack on the floor by the bed— moving it to her bedroom had been the first thing she'd done after getting home, the clearest message she could send— and then left to meet hers, his hand rising to knock lightly on the door-frame as he slowly stepped forward, the sound half-greeting, half-request.

Relieved, she felt her lips curve, her eyes travelling over him as if it had been days rather than a single hour since she had seen him.

"How was your day, honey?" she asked wryly, her words having their intended effect as he seemed to relax a little, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he crossed the floor to sink wearily onto his side of the bed.

"I've had better," he muttered, resting his forearms on his knees with a sigh. "How about you?"

Putting her magazine aside— not that she'd taken in a word of it in the last few minutes anyway— she let out a breath.

"Well," she began, unsure how to find the words to explain the events of this morning. Then, shifting closer to him, she spent half a moment simply watching him as he tilted his head, working the cricks from his neck, then leaned down to begin removing his boots, her attention distracted by the shift of muscles beneath his shirt, the powerful but graceful lines of his body.

Blinking, she regained her focus, then stated simply, "I've seen some things today that have been testing the limits of my comprehension."

He didn't pause in his actions, but she saw his head tilt slightly to the side, clearly listening, so she went on.

"What do you think of when I say 'The Monarch will be crowned'?"

At that he did pause, twisting to look over his shoulder at her, his eyes meeting hers.

"What're you talking about?" he asked, his tone making it clear that he had no more answers than she did.

Her eyes still locked with his, she lifted her shoulders in a small, helpless shrug. "I wish I knew."

His brow creasing, he held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned back to his task, the tiniest hint of stiffness once again evident in his movements. Sighing at his back, she shook her head, repeating the words to herself as if the meaning might suddenly become clear.

It didn't.

Boots now removed, Barbie stood to place them beside his pack, then reached over his shoulder to drag his shirt off over his head. Watching him from her spot on the bed, Julia's mood instantly shifted from enjoyment of the show to stunned horror as she saw the mottled mess staining his skin, several fresh bruises blooming over his back and ribs.

"Barbie!" she burst out, reflexively scrambling across the bed to kneel at its edge, shock and dismay roiling in her gut. Blinking back the sudden burn behind her eyes, she watched as he wordlessly dropped his shirt on top of his pack, his chest expanding with a slow, silent breath as he turned towards her.

Her own breath hissed between her teeth as her eyes immediately fell on one particularly nasty bruise on the left side of his ribcage, her fingers already reaching for him before she hastily snatched them back.

Lifting her head, she locked her gaze with his, a surge of anger and protectiveness making her voice sharp.

"What the hell happened?"

One shoulder lifted in a half-shrug, his expression unreadable. "Ollie was using his well to control the town's water supply, which naturally Jim didn't like, so he organised an attack on the farm to gain control of the well."

Still reeling, Julia blinked hard, trying to gather her scrambled thoughts. "You fought for  _Jim_?"

"No," he said evenly, looking at his scraped and dirtied hands. "I blew up the well."

"You  _what_?"

"From the map that Jim showed Linda and me, it looked like disabling Ollie's well would cause a backflow into the other dried-up springs nearby, giving us more water sources," Barbie explained, the tiniest hint of uncertainty shadowing his eyes as he lifted them to meet hers, almost as if seeking her approval. "Linda and I thought it was the best option for the town."

Staring up at him, she held her breath. "Did it work?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly, the subtle undercurrent of relief in his voice causing a swell of tenderness and pride in her chest. "Since everyone stopped fighting once the well wasn't there to fight for, Linda was able to go and check. She let me know over the walkie while I was on my way back to Joe's."

Frowning, she touched her fingers lightly to his chest, taking care not to hurt him. "Then how did you get these?"

He grimaced slightly. "One of Ollie's guys saw me just as I was laying the charge."

Her free hand clenched into a fist, a low simmer of anger burning beneath her skin. "I hope you gave him worse."

Letting out a small, amused huff, he looked down, gently taking her hand and easing her clenched fingers apart to link with his. "Probably not. Last time I saw him he was out cold, though."

"Good," she answered, rising a little on her knees as her other hand slid up from his chest to cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer as her lips found his.

For a few moments the kiss was gentle, sweet, the tension in their bodies slowly melting into relief, soothed by the other's touch. But then his fingers tightened around hers, his other hand lifting to cup her face, and suddenly the kiss became deeper, more heated, his mouth moving over hers in a way that was both immeasurably tender and completely possessive. Her response was instant, automatic, her heart pounding hard in her chest as she kissed him back hard, wanting him and not caring that he knew it.

Eventually, she managed to gather together enough focus to pull back just a fraction, their faces scarcely an inch apart as they breathed together.

Eyes still closed, she brushed her nose lightly against his, a trace of playfulness rising to join the desire that already burned hot in her veins.

"Are you  _very_  injured?" she purred against his mouth, drawing their joined hands to her waist as her other hand released his neck to drift steadily downward, her fingers trailing over smooth skin and taut muscles until they reached the waistband of his jeans, hooking in the fabric and tugging gently.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as his hand dropped from her cheek to slide under the hem of her camisole, his warm palms settling on her waist before pulling her close against him, his body making it clear that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

"I'm suddenly feeling a lot better," he answered huskily, a devilish smile still curving his lips as he pressed them to hers.

Responding eagerly to his kiss, she worked a hand between them, fumbling with the button of his jeans for a moment before tugging blindly at the unyielding denim, Barbie's lips still covering hers as his steady hands reached down to help her. Within seconds his jeans and briefs had hit the floor, followed a moment later by her camisole, his calloused palms skimming over the newly exposed skin, leaving trails of fire that had every inch of her body responding, coming alive in a way that it only ever did for him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him the way she'd been dreaming of all day, her lips never leaving his as she slowly drew him back down onto the bed. He kissed her back like he'd die if he didn't, his body radiating heat as he braced himself above her, surrounding her, closing her in and the rest of the world out. Giving herself over to him completely, she lifted her hips, allowing him room to tug down her tiny shorts until she could kick them off, her breath catching as he pressed against her once more, his body taut with carefully restrained need, her name escaping his lips on a ragged breath.

Caught up in her own desperate need, she clutched at his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist as she fought to get closer— to erase the last of the remaining space between them, both physical and metaphorical— drawing a choked groan from him before finally he was filling her, completing her, her body shuddering as she buried her face in his neck, her mind suddenly clear of all but a single, fierce thought.

_Mine._


End file.
